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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23914435">To Hunt a Fey</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf'>Lost_Elf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe – Fantasy, Amputation, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Brief Non-Consensual Gore Kink, Con Artist Hank Anderson, Curses, Fey Connor, First Time, Guro, Happy Ending, Human Sumo (mention), Hunter Hank Anderson, Hurt/Comfort, I only indulged one of my kinks, I promise the work is sweet, Injury Recovery, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic, Magic Made Them Do It, Pining, Sharing Body Heat, Strangers to Lovers, there was only one blanket; oh no, this is a lot of words for the author's small gore kink, travel companions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:01:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,671</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23914435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank lives a normal life of a hunter and a con artist. The whole continent hates him and wants him dead, and he likes his life, thinking there is nothing better for him in this world. That is until he meets a suspicious young man who claims to have wandered too far from home and can’t find his way.</p>
<p>*** DISCLAIMER: There will be one gore/guro scene in this story. It is quite irrelevant to the otherwise sweet story, and I will mark it appropriately by two lines at the beginning and end of it, so you can avoid it if this is not your thing. :) ***</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson/Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To Hunt a Fey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I honestly consider this one of my best works. I love fantasy, and I'm proud of myself for writting all of this just because I wanted to finally write guro. :D (The guro part is only a few paragraphs, don't worry.)</p>
<p>Enjoy! ^.^</p>
<p>A/N: The ‘continent’ is actually an island, not so big. :D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Stop him!”</p>
<p>“Shoot!”</p>
<p>“Get me that lying bastard’s head!”</p>
<p>Hank can’t resist stopping for a second to turn around and stick his tongue out at his pursuers. A couple of arrows fly past him, not dangerously close, but he decides to not test his luck any longer and continues his grandiose escape, huffing at some stray hair that began to slip out of his bun.</p>
<p>His little game worked for three whole days. He made the stupid peasants believe that he is the <em>Lord of Detroit</em>, and they served him their best foods, offered their most beautiful women and let him stay in the nicest room in the village. When they realised that he is just a con artist, they demanded he covers the cost of his stay. When they learned he doesn’t have a single coin, or land and wealth to his name, they wanted to hang him as a thief. (Even though they didn’t have the right to do so, as Hank helpfully pointed out.)</p>
<p>Escaping danger was something he was really good at, so getting out of the loosely tied ropes that held him, picking up his satchel and bow, and running, it was all like a routine to him. It felt like <em>home</em> more than any other place in the world did. He’d spare a tear if he wasn’t saving his breath and energy for later.</p>
<p>After some time, the villagers gave up chasing him, leaving it to the forest to deal with the hunter. He knew the woods all over the continent like the back of his hand, so he wasn’t afraid, while they were probably scared shitless, affected by whichever bedtime story they chose to believe now.</p>
<p>Back in the day, Hank would hunt prey for coin. His affection for alcohol brought him to debts that he could no longer repay by hunting. And so, for years, he practiced the art of conning, until almost all of the continent hated him. And he wouldn’t stop until it was simply the <em>whole</em> <em>continent</em>.</p>
<p>The forest remained thick and dark for two hours, and then Hank finally met a clearing. A river of sparkling, clear water surrounded by a rocky shore called to him like a blessing.</p>
<p>Hank doesn’t believe in many legends and stories, and he certainly doesn’t believe in elves, forest nymphs and spirits, dryads, werewolves, unicorns, and other stupid nonsense. He believes in trolls and dwarves in the mountains because he had met them before, and he believes in <em>fey</em>, but that’s all. So, they were not the nature forces that brought him to the cooling water, but his pure survival skill.</p>
<p>And against his survival skill and instinct, Hank drove his hands into the crystal clear water and brought it to his face, drinking rapidly and quenching his thirst without cleaning the water first.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” someone speaks behind him so suddenly Hank falls forward into the water. It was caused by the surprise that someone managed to sneak up on him, which was <em>impossible</em>, and not that he was startled. He wasn’t startled at all. And his heart was beating fast because of how cold the water was, not shock or fear.</p>
<p>“I’ve seen a bear piss in the river a few miles up from here,” the person added, watching Hank with amusement as he struggled to pull himself up.</p>
<p>“You!” he growled. “Where the hell did you come from?!”</p>
<p>“Me? I was just on a walk when I heard a creature loud and obnoxious like a giant stomping through the forest. I came closer, you didn’t see me, and so I— Do you need help?” they asked just as Hank finally managed to stand on the solid ground, moving dripping wet hair from his face. He lunged at them immediately after, but they dodged him without effort.</p>
<p>He stood still, fuming and glaring at the stranger. It appeared to be a young man. Hank couldn’t guess his age, but the man’s – or boy’s – face was perfectly smooth compared to his beard. And quite beautiful. He took another long look, studying every detail of his body. Simple brown pants, torn in places, no shirt, just the strap of his bag going across his pale chest.</p>
<p>And the moles. Black and big, and so many, unlike anything Hank had ever seen. Normal, healthy humans don’t have moles. The boy is pretty, tall with legs going for days and muscles hiding under perfect skin. His brown hair is a little ruffled from the wind as he probably walked alongside the river for hours, unprotected by the treeline. His eyes are beautiful brown.</p>
<p>“Are you done staring?” the stranger asks when Hank’s gaze slips to his mole-covered chest again, smug and still amused.</p>
<p>“Who the hell are you?” Hank asks instead of reacting to the jab, but he has already decided he knows the answer.</p>
<p>“My name is Connor,” the boy answers with a soft smile. Whether he is naïve, or trying to look innocent, Hank will soon learn. Carefully and slowly, his hand begins to inch towards the hilt of his hunting knife.</p>
<p>“I’m Hank,” he introduces himself. “The dwarves, though,” he makes a step forward, simultaneously nodding towards the high mountains visible in the distance, and Connor glances in that direction, stupidly, “they call me <em>Son of the Fey</em>.”</p>
<p>He watches shock and fear flicker in the boy’s face, slowing him down enough for Hank to lunge at him and topple him to the ground. The momentum is stronger than he expected, and they both roll over, but Hank is obviously a more experienced fighter, and he manages to end up on top, with Connor pinned under him, the tip of Hank’s knife pressing against his throat.</p>
<p>“Who. Are. You.” He repeats his question, pressing on the knife just a little bit more. He believes, <em>knows</em> that if he draws blood, it will be <em>gold</em>. Fey have many magical aspects, and bleeding gold is the most commonly known of them. Glowing, mending things, being beautiful and ageless, their bodies being naturally decorated with marks, it all races through Hank’s mind as he searches for a proof that he is right, he <em>has to be</em>.</p>
<p>A speck of red on Connor’s shoulder catches his eye. One of the scratches he got while they rolled around is bleeding – red and normal. It isn’t even healing rapidly, as it should if the legends are correct.</p>
<p>“You are not a fey,” Hank breaths out, disappointed.</p>
<p>“O-of course I’m not!” Connor stammers. There is genuine fear in his voice. “Please, get off me.”</p>
<p>Groaning, Hank stands up, but before Connor can do the same, he points his knife at him again. “You haven’t answered my question, sweetheart,” he growls.</p>
<p>Connor gulps and stays rooted in place. “I’m Connor, I told you. I was just walking here, and—”</p>
<p>“Quite a long walk, don’t you think?” Hank interrupts him. “The closest human settlement is a few hours this way, and there isn’t anything in the other direction for days.”</p>
<p>“I…” Connor shifts nervously, eyes drifting to the sharp knife before looking down at the sparse grass under him. “I got lost… a few days ago. I can’t find my way home. I need help.”</p>
<p>Groaning, Hank shoves the knife in its place at his waist. “Great! I’m not gonna be taking care of some stupid kid, so, get out of my way.”</p>
<p>The boy stands up hesitantly, still trembling. He eyes the sheathed knife, and Hank, with the same curiosity, eyes the boy’s throat. He is sure he did not leave a single scratch, or maybe barely a scratch, but there is now a white spot where he threatened him with the weapon, like a weird rash.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yeh, Son o' t'e Fey! If yeh ever forced te fight yer ancestors like us Dwarves were during t'e great war, make sure te use iron. 'Ey can’t stan' eet; ee’s poison!”</em>
</p>
<p>“What’s that?” he asks, and Connor reaches up to cover the spot.</p>
<p>“N-nothing! You hurt me a little, but I can handle it!” he blurts out and takes a few steps back.</p>
<p>“You’re a fey!” It feels like a loop, and it is getting a little awkward. Hank steps forward, towering over the young man, taking full advantage of the few inches he has on him.</p>
<p>“No!” Connor shakes his head. “I’m— I’m not a fey! Have you ever even seen one in your life? I’m not glowing, right? I’m, I’m just, I’m a child of a fey, like you!”</p>
<p>Children of humans and fey often bore signs. In Hank’s case, and supposedly Connor’s too, they were moles and freckles. There is a cluster of them in the middle of Hank’s chest, and his eyes are the most beautiful blue anyone has ever seen, cursing him to always stand out a little. Connor is <em>covered</em> in moles, though, the biggest one on his temple.</p>
<p>They eye each other. Hank is sure the boy is lying through his teeth, but he cannot find anything to prove it. And what use was a fey if it didn’t bleed gold? Maybe it wasn’t enough; maybe he was supposed to shed all of its blood, but what’s the point of trying? It might be just another unlucky kid like him.</p>
<p>“No, I haven’t,” he admits. “My father left us when he learned mother is pregnant, and she wanted nothing to do with cross-bred like me.”</p>
<p>Eyeing the boy’s reaction carefully, he notices Connor’s sadness. “Where are your parents?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Home,” Connor mumbles. “I don’t know where.”</p>
<p>“Lost, right,” Hank scoffs. “Few days, you say? There are not many options. I know of maybe ten settlements that you could wander away from in a <em>few days</em>...”</p>
<p>“Maybe…” Connor shifts nervously, rubbing his hands together and blushing, “maybe it was a little bit more...”</p>
<p>The hunter raises his eyebrows at him. “Like?”</p>
<p>“Like... Months?” Connor is red in face as he says that, shame making him squirm. “I kept just wandering, hoping I would find my people. But I think I just wandered even further away.”</p>
<p>“Sounds like it,” Hank hums. “Look, there is not much I can do for you—”</p>
<p>“Where are you heading?” Connor asks out of nowhere, almost too eagerly. “Can I come with you?”</p>
<p>“Uhh...” It is Hank’s turn to squirm. “Look, kid... It’d be better for you to just find the village I left this morning and ask them for help. I’m not the kind of adventurer that takes an apprentice. You would be a burden and, and I don’t even know where <em>I’m</em> heading! There is definitely a long road ahead of me, a few days of sleeping in the open, no comfort... Nothing for a child like you.”</p>
<p>Connor frowns, his eyebrows knitting together and lip protruding in a cute pout. “I would not be a burden. I can hunt! And I’m not useless.”</p>
<p>“You are definitely a useless fighter,” Hank scoffs. “You bruise easily; you are fragile. Besides, I’m a <em>hunter</em>. I don’t need a kid to hunt for me.” He ignores Connor’s <em>I’m not a kid</em>. “You really should—”</p>
<p>“But I’m like you, right?” Connor implores him, even taking a brave step forward. “We are different than other people. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone who understands you for once?” He shifts his expression in a way that reminds Hank of puppies.</p>
<p>“I dunno what you’re talking about,” he mutters, but something heavy settles in his chest. He remembers years of side-glances, insults, curses and hate from his grandmother and the whole village. If Connor is what he claims to be, he probably had a similar childhood.</p>
<p>But Hank, the Son of the Fey, travels alone, and he looks him in the eyes to say just that. But the brown eyes bore into him, pulling at the heart he didn’t even know he had. “Fine!” he grumbles. “I’ll take you to the settlement on the other side of the forest.”</p>
<p>“Thank you!” the boy jumps excitedly. “You won’t regret it. I survived so far, right? I can be of help!”</p>
<p>“Whatever.” Hank rolls his eyes and starts taking off his clothes to let it dry. He takes everything out of his satchel, spreading his possessions on the sun-heated rocks, all the while ignoring Connor’s curious stare.</p>
<p>His patience runs out when he realises that Connor isn’t about to stop staring even after Hank takes off his pants. He turns to the boy with an expression of exasperation, rolling his eyes when the boy blushes and finally looks away.</p>
<p>“You can go hunt us some lunch,” he suggests, partially hoping that the boy will get lost on the way, “if you are <em>such a good hunter</em>, as you claim.”</p>
<p>“Good idea! I’ll be back soon!” Connor jumps at the opportunity, pulling a wooden spike out of his satchel and leaving the rest of it there with Hank as he runs off.</p>
<p>He is so unbelievably naïve. Hank could steal all of his possessions and leave him there if he wanted. He doesn’t resist – doesn’t even try to – the temptation to go through Connor’s things. He finds a blanket way too thin for sleeping in the woods, a small cauldron in good condition (much better than the pan Hank owns), one single silver coin, some herbs, probably picked up along the way, and a few papers with simple drawings of nature, a village and some people.</p>
<p>“I hope you like hares.”</p>
<p>Hank startles again and drops the pictures. It has only been a couple minutes since Connor left, and he couldn’t have—</p>
<p>“What the hell?” he pauses and stares at three well-fed hares in Connor’s hand. All of them had their necks snapped, no other visible injury. “Where did you get those?”</p>
<p>“I… hunted them down?” Connor answers, uncertainty making him frown. “Where else would I get them?”</p>
<p>“<em>When?!</em> You were gone for— Where the hell did you get them?”</p>
<p>Hank is not impressed. He would be if it took Connor twice as much time. Like this, it looked like he literally only walked into the forest and picked them up. Which was freaky and not admirable at all.</p>
<p>“Well, I…” Connor seems to finally realise that he did something unusual. “I mean, they were just sitting there, eating some shamrock… So, I, uhm, caught them?”</p>
<p>Hank resists the urge to ask Connor again what the hell he is. He snatches the hares from him instead and begins skinning them. After some nervous shifting and staring, Connor begins to gather wood for a fire.</p>
<p>By the time Hank has prepared the hares, using some of the herbs from Connor’s satchel, the fire is burning strong. Hank begins to notice that Connor is really quiet while moving around, and it can’t be because of his lack of shoes. Some fairy-tale creatures come to the hunter’s mind, but he shakes such thoughts away. He needs to tell himself that Connor is just a stupid kid.</p>
<p>His clothes are dry by the time they fill their bellies with meat, and so Hank packs his things and the remaining hare, and they head out into the forest. They keep out of the sun and wind, covered by trees.</p>
<p>After only one hour of walking in silence, Hank understands how Connor could get lost so desperately. The boy has absolutely no sense of orientation. If they stop to drink water, he usually heads out in the wrong direction, sometimes even back the way they came from. His story seems all the more believable each time he looks around in confusion, puppy eyes stopping at Hank as if saying <em>I have no idea what we are doing.</em></p>
<p>It remains a question how Connor managed to survive in the wildness for so long with his childish naivety. He looks like the kind who would try to pet a bear because it is fluffy.</p>
<p>Then again, he might have done so with his stealth skills, sneaking away before the bear even noticed.</p>
<p>By the nightfall, Hank has found a nice meadow to spend the night at. Connor gathers wood while Hank gets some rocks from the river shore not far from the place they found, and while Connor makes fire – Hank wouldn’t admit that, but the boy is much better at it than he is – Hank prepares their blankets. Hank’s are made of furs and thick wool; Connor’s one blanket is just one thin cloth.</p>
<p>“Aren’t you gonna be cold with just that?” he asks, already suspecting that he will be forced to part with one of his furs. The night is going to be chilly, and Connor cannot get through it with his tattered pants and that pathetic piece of cloth.</p>
<p>“I don’t know. Maybe?” Connor eyes his blanket doubtfully, like it was the first time he was to sleep in the open.</p>
<p>Hank groans. The kid cannot be any more stupid or weird, right? “What about the previous nights? How did you sleep?”</p>
<p>With a shrug, Connor looks up. “High in the trees. It is safer. This is the first time I’m sleeping on the ground.”</p>
<p>Well, maybe he <em>can</em> get even more weird… “And you weren’t cold up in the trees?” he asks.</p>
<p>With another shrug, Connor admits that yes, it was usually cold. He admits to sleeping during the day, in the sun. It probably slowed his travel speed, giving Hank a hope that Connor’s home is not that far away (plus, his ability to walk in circles for hours might help shorten the distance too), and therefore Hank will be able to get rid of him soon.</p>
<p>To nobody’s surprise, Hank wakes up in the middle of the night to see Connor huddled close to the fire, wrapped tightly in his blanket and the one fur Hank has lent him, trying to get warm.</p>
<p>“You should sleep,” the hunter grumbles drowsily. “I won’t let you sleep during the day.”</p>
<p>Connor’s teeth are clattering as he speaks. “I w-won’t need to. I-I’m al-alright.”</p>
<p>“Sure you are,” Hank grumbles, turning on the other side, away from the too bright fire. He falls asleep again easily, not caring about the boy.</p>
<p>In the morning, Hank is well rested, used to sleeping in such conditions. Connor, surprisingly, doesn’t look as exhausted as Hank expected. He is even paler than yesterday, his lips bluish, but he is ready to go after they eat leftovers for breakfast.</p>
<p>Connor is good at keeping up with Hank’s pace. He makes up for his lack of a sense of orientation by picking up more herbs and fruits for them to add some variation to their meals. This is the only thing they talk about for days. Hank tries to ignore Connor and the weird things about him, and the kid soon learns that the hunter doesn’t appreciate banter. He seems to turn sad with every shot down attempt at talking, but he respects Hank’s wish to be quiet.</p>
<p>After few days, Hank manages to replace the feathers on his arrows that got damaged thanks to his sudden bath when he met Connor, and he decides to hunt down something special. He leaves Connor in their camp in the morning and finds a young doe, ending its life with two arrows. The nearest settlement is not far from where they slept, and he wants to take advantage of that.</p>
<p>Connor does not like the plan, and he says that multiple times while he helps Hank prepare the skin and the meat for sale.</p>
<p>“I just, I’ve never done that, I don’t… Look, I don’t think it will work.” By then, he knows that doing a particular face at Hank has an effect on the grumpy man. It isn’t helping this time, and he starts pouting instead.</p>
<p>“It’s easy,” Hank repeats, annoyed. “You walk there, find the man I described, offer the skin and meat for a wool blanket, bread and cheese, and you don’t back down from the price. He can try to find faults at the goods, but you don’t have to argue with him. Just tell him that you know the price and that you are actually giving it for cheap, so he better takes it or leaves it. Don’t let him trick you. It’s easy, really.”</p>
<p>“I’m just really not good at this…” Connor groans. “Can’t you go there?”</p>
<p>“No,” Hank reminds him for the hundredth time, “I’m not welcome in that village. And I know you are really bad at reading people and talking, and that’s why we ask so little for a whole doe. You will make it. Just don’t back down.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Connor gives up reluctantly. Hank helps him carry the goods to the village but doesn’t go near enough to be seen. He waits covered by the treeline, carving more arrows from the young branches sprouting from the trees.</p>
<p>When Connor finally returns more than an hour later, he is carrying a blanket, bread and cheese. He looks a little paler than usually, and he is shaking, but there is a victorious smirk on his face. “I did it!” he calls out from afar, spotting Hank without any effort where most wouldn’t even notice him from a shorter distance.</p>
<p>“Good,” Hank says, rolling his eyes. “Now try not to let the whole world know. You will attract that Gavin bastard’s dogs.”</p>
<p>They continue their journey, Connor talking loudly all the while about his success, Hank tolerating him – because why not? At least he isn’t looking at him like a kicked puppy when he doesn’t react to his rambling, because he doesn’t even notice that Hank is quiet the whole time.</p>
<p>Before dawn, they walk past one more village, selling a bunch of rabbits that Connor hunted. For the first time in months, Hank has some coins in his pouch. They accept money instead of goods or alcohol, because Hank doesn’t want to drink when Connor is tagging along and because it’s about time they start saving up for winter.</p>
<p>At night, Hank is once more woken up to Connor not sleeping, huddled under two blankets and staring into the fire. It’s a usual sight, and normally, he would just roll on the other side and ignore him, thinking that of course Connor is cold even under the added layer, because he is such a twig, but something in his face makes the hunter sit up and stretch, yawning and chasing sleep away.</p>
<p>Looking at the sky, he finds that there are at least two more hours before dawn. He will need to sleep in a little, unable to keep up the pace without proper sleep like the younger man can. For now, though, he scoots closer to the boy who watches him with barely concealable worry.</p>
<p>“Am I waking you up?” he asks. He worries a lip between his sharp little teeth – too white, too nice – and tries to find the answer in Hank’s face.</p>
<p>“Nah,” the hunter shrugs. “Just decided I really want to have a deep talk with you in the middle of the night. That’s something that has been missing from my life…”</p>
<p>After a while, Connor frowns. “You are pulling my leg,” he accuses, making Hank laugh.</p>
<p>“Kudos to you, kid. It only took you a week to learn what sarcasm is!” He chuckles and throws one arm nonchalantly around Connor’s shoulders. “So, why do you look like someone stole all your toys when you’ve been all happy in the afternoon?”</p>
<p>Connor stiffens, but then his shoulders sag and he looks down. “It’s nothing, just… It’s stupid,” he tries to shrug it off, but it’s obviously weighting him down, resting on his chest and suffocating him, and it only takes three shaky inhales from him to give in and say it.</p>
<p>“I miss home,” Connor confesses. “I… I miss my parents, and my brothers, and my friends, and my bed. I miss the village and the lake. I miss every tree in and outside the village, and every flower on every meadow. I… I’m sorry, it’s so stupid.”</p>
<p>Hank doesn’t know what to say. Feelings are not his strong side, nor is talking, unless he wants to trick Connor into giving him something he wants. He squeezes his shoulder gingerly, patting his back then, all the while trying to come up with something else than <em>that sounds bad</em>.</p>
<p>“It’s my fault I got lost,” Connor sighs. “I knew I will never find my way back, but I wanted to… prove someone that I can do something. I wanted to go on an adventure and come back and show them how much they underestimated me. But I got lost like some jackass!”</p>
<p>Unable to stop himself, Hank mutters that it really was stupid. He expects Connor to pull away, maybe try to hit him, but he only tenses up and then... chuckles. “Yeah, I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”</p>
<p>“I guess there are some good things about you,” Hank shrugs, remembering the pleasant weight at his waist, a few copper coins. “We could do so much together, Connor! A little bit of training, and we can make enough to buy a horse, and then we’ll be making even more. Don’t question it; that’s how it works, I’m tellin’ ya!”</p>
<p>Connor giggles, subconsciously leaning closer to Hank while doing so. “I believe you,” he says. “We’ll travel the land and make a lot of money. And maybe, on the way, we will find my village… right?”</p>
<p>“Right,” Hank says as honestly as he can. Not that he would have to try, because Connor usually doesn’t recognise when he is lying. He is about to say some simple reassurance, but Connor suddenly stiffens under his arm. He looks at him only to notice his eyes are staring somewhere into the darkness. He looks in the same direction and stiffens too.</p>
<p>There, just on the edge of where the light of the fire reaches, two yellow eyes shine, watching them. A wolf.</p>
<p>His first instinct tells him that what he sees is bullshit. A wolf wouldn’t ever attack them like that, even if starved. They are too dangerous of a prey. But the beast growls as if to say <em>here I am</em>. It doesn’t look scared at all.</p>
<p>Hank risks a glance at his bow on the other side of the campfire. He only has his knife at hand, and that wouldn’t be enough. There is no thick and long branch in the fire that he could use as a torch, and so he starts carefully inching towards his weapon.</p>
<p>But as soon as he moves, the wolf growls in warning, baring big teeth covered in green saliva.</p>
<p>“It’s been cursed,” Connor hisses, tensing up even more. The wolf growls again and starts walking towards them, not giving Hank the time to say that that is bullshit too, who would curse a wolf.</p>
<p>If Hank reaches the bow before the wolf, it will be too late anyway. His only hope is his knife, sheathed safely at his waist. But before he can reach for it, Connor snatches it. A question gets stuck in the hunter’s throat as he watches the boy jump over the campfire and run towards the wolf, his feet making no sound but his vicious scream chilling the blood in Hank’s veins.</p>
<p>Connor stops right in front of the beast so suddenly it looks like he is about to lose balance and topple over. They stare at each other for a second before the wolf roars and tenses up to attack. Again, words of warning get stuck in Hank’s tight throat as he watches the beast jump forward and Connor move out of its way with a roll. He ends up behind him, and he doesn’t hesitate to jump on the creature’s back before it can turn around.</p>
<p>With wide eyes, Hank watches Connor sit on the wolf and grasp it by an ear, pull its head backwards and stab Hank’s knife to the hilt right into its eye.</p>
<p>The wolf howls and tries to snap at Connor one more time before the knife is pulled out and thrust into the other eye, killing the beast. It crumples to the ground, letting out one long whine, and Connor rolls off it, dropping Hank’s knife in the grass.</p>
<p>“Connor!” the hunter springs forward, helping the younger man up. He checks with one glance that the wolf really is dead and then checks Connor for any injury.</p>
<p>“I’m alright,” the boy shakes his head, whole body trembling with leftover thrill. He is clutching his hand, though, holding it to his chest with the other one, and when he notices Hank’s gaze fixed on it, he sighs. “Do you have any bandages? It… hurt me.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Hank nods, quickly fetching some from his satchel. Connor remains in the shadow, and so he pulls him to the campfire by his elbow. “Let me look,” he reaches for his hand.</p>
<p>“No, it’s alright,” Connor shies away. “I’ll bandage it, and it will be alright. We need to keep moving. If there is something or some<em>one</em> who can curse wolves, we aren’t safe here.”</p>
<p>He has a point, but Hank won’t be brushed off. “Let me look at least. I can stitch. If it’s deep, you shouldn’t let it bleed.”</p>
<p>“It’s not bleeding,” Connor sighs. He studies Hank’s face, and when he recognises his stubbornness, he gives up, showing Hank his hand briefly.</p>
<p>The whole palm and fingers are swelling, covered in a white rash. He moves his hand away before Hank can grasp it and quickly snatches the bandages from him with his other hand.</p>
<p>“You are not human,” Hank says as he watches Connor wrap his hand up. Somehow, even though he knew from the beginning, every new clue or proof stuns him. He has interacted with legends before, when he fought his first troll without even believing in them, and when he found his way into a dwarf mine. But this time, it feels like interacting with something above him. Dwarves and trolls are dirty, crass creatures. Whatever Connor is, it is beautiful and stunning.</p>
<p>“We need to keep moving, Hank,” Connor reminds, carefully collecting his things. His hand seems to hurt a lot, and so he ends up only using the other one, making his progress slow.</p>
<p>Shaking off his trance, Hank puts a long branch in the fire to use it as a torch when they take off and then packs both his and Connor’s things. He helps the younger man put on his bag and then collects his knife, bow and arrows, keeping the latter in one hand and the torch in the other in case he needs to fight.</p>
<p>Connor is silent as they walk, only occasionally hissing when he moves his aching hand wrong. The forest is silent too, dark and unusually calm in the night. No birds, no animals, not even wind. It is one of the scariest situations Hank has ever been in, and he is nervous until the birds finally start singing two hours after sunrise.</p>
<p>Both men let out a relieved sigh as the forest around them slowly blooms into life, small animals running away from Hank’s loud footsteps and birds flying overhead. Hank stops watching his surroundings so tensely, finally paying attention to Connor.</p>
<p>He blinks a few times, taking in a sight that he hadn’t seen before. Connor is flushed, red reaching both his face and chest, and he is sweating. He is obviously tired and feverous.</p>
<p>“Are you alright?” Hank asks, knowing that he is most definitely not. Just as he says it, Connor sways a little to the side, stumbling and leaning on a tree to not lose balance. “Shit,” Hank curses. He drops his things in order to help Connor sit down. His skin is hot to the touch, something new – he is always cold.</p>
<p>“That’s it, you need rest,” Hank decides, and Connor doesn’t fight him on it. He lets the hunter take out a blanket and help him rest on it.</p>
<p>Hank stands watch while Connor sleeps whatever is happening to him off. He watches the calm forest carefully, even though everything looks normal now. He makes sure to make Connor drink water and eat some bread and cheese, but without knowing what is happening, he can’t do anything else.</p>
<p>It is two hours before dusk when Connor finally wakes up enough to walk. They only travel a short distance, to a safer location where they can spend the night. This time, Hank hunts the dinner, makes fire and brings water, letting Connor lay on his furs, shivering through another fever.</p>
<p>The hunter thought a lot about what he learned during the day. He knew that Connor is not human. Maybe he even is a fey, if the legends are correct. He certainly doesn’t bleed gold, but he is <em>magical</em> in other ways. Hank is sure he could find a right buyer…</p>
<p>But he doesn’t want to do that. Whatever Connor is, he is lost, and too naïve for his own good, and he <em>trusts Hank</em> of all people. Nobody has trusted him in a long time, since him and Sumo parted ways.</p>
<p>He doesn’t want to end the trust like that. Maybe... He can just take Connor home, get a huge reward from his parents, and then be on his way. Be the hero, like he always wanted to be.</p>
<p>The fire is burning bright and hot, but Connor is shivering. His fever is gone now, but that leaves room for cold. His pants don’t provide much warmth and his blankets are damp from sweat.</p>
<p>They eat in silence, Connor slowly, because the swelling of his hand didn’t go away at all. When it’s time for sleep, both of them being exhausted from the past night, Hank can only lay still with his conscience for a minute. He doesn’t know <em>what </em>he feels bad for. Many things, probably. He didn’t thank Connor for saving their lives. He thought about taking advantage of him. He didn’t even offer to lend him a blanket.</p>
<p>“Come here,” he speaks suddenly, startling the younger man. “You’ll be warmer if we share heat.” It’s the least he can do.</p>
<p>Connor is a little hesitant as he crawls over to Hank, pulling his blankets with him. The hunter helps him lie down with his back to the fire, wrapping as many blankets and furs around him as possible. Their bodies press together under the warm layers, Hank’s hot and big and Connor’s small, cold and trembling.</p>
<p>As he was positioning them comfortably, he noticed that Connor’s previously tattered and dirty pants are now perfectly clean and there are no signs of holes and tears. He brings it up, asking Connor why, but the young man silences him with a single word. “Please, Hank,” he sighs tiredly. The hunter decides he can let it go, write it off as another random miracle.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” the young man mumbles, falling asleep soon. Hank realises that today is the first time he has actually seen him sleep, not pretending to, or huddling by the fire instead of resting. He watches Connor’s furrowed face in the flickering light for a few minutes, and then he lets sleep take him too.</p>
<p>Something is different in the morning. It takes Hank a few tries to wake up enough to grasp the change in the atmosphere. His instincts don’t go off like they did when they walked through the silent forest; instead, he feels his cheeks grow pink.</p>
<p>Connor is hugging him, one hand rested on his chest. He seems to still be asleep, and he is dreaming. About something nice, probably. The hardness pressing against Hank’s thigh says so.</p>
<p>He is not sure what to do. On one side, he really shouldn’t allow this. On the other, Connor needs rest. And Hank is really curious how far this will go if he allows it.</p>
<p>In the end, he pushes the young man away when he starts moving his hips slightly. Not because of the movement itself, rather because of Connor’s soft moan that sounds a lot like <em>Hank</em>.</p>
<p>The boy startles, slowly coming to. He looks around in confusion, taking in his surroundings, mainly Hank’s body still intertwined with his, and the hardness between his legs. He doesn’t seem to notice Hank’s own half-hard member as his cheeks colour bright red and he stumbles away, stuttering and not really saying anything.</p>
<p>“You like men, don’t you?” Hank can’t help himself and teases Connor a little. He frowns when the young man keeps backing away, going far enough to ass-land right in the middle of the fireplace that went completely cold as nobody spent the night up to add wood. Connor uses his hurt hand to push himself further away, and that’s when Hank steps in. “Stop that, you’re gonna hurt yourself! C'mon, let me help you up. This wasn’t my wildest morning by far, anyway, so there is no reason to be all flustered, Con, really.”</p>
<p>Finally, Connor calms down, muttering a last sorry and letting Hank hoist him up, steadying him when he sways a little. He goes to examine his hand immediately, noting that the swelling is gone. He cuts the bandage open and gasps, letting his knife slip out of his hands when the cloth falls open to reveal a smooth hand. No rash or scars.</p>
<p>He doesn’t even bother asking why or how, simply letting Connor snatch his hand away. If he tried, he might be able to make up a story about the wound being caused by the curse and leaving as suddenly as it appeared, but Hank knows it had a lot more to do with the fact that it was the hand Connor held his knife in than the beast.</p>
<p>“We should go,” Connor says quietly, pleadingly. It’s as if he was saying something completely different. <em>Can I go with you? Can you forget? Can I </em>trust<em> you?</em></p>
<p>“Yeah,” Hank answers, even though there was no question.</p>
<p>They eat a cold breakfast and take off. They travel through the land, stopping at villages occasionally to sell prey and get food, supplies or some coin. They don’t talk about the fact that they never meet trees quite similar to the ones Connor sometimes draws, or about the weird things happening around them, like Hank’s torn clothes mending itself and his worn-down shoe-sole growing strong and complete again.</p>
<p>When in good mood, Connor talks about his homeland. He tells Hank about their shared jokes and little adventures. He talks about his teachers, sharing his ability to read. Hank, in turn, talks about his childhood, knowing that Connor won’t really understand because he isn’t what he claims to be, but he feels like he can tell him anyway. He talks about his big adventures and successful cons.</p>
<p>Soon, Hank catches himself worrying when Connor is gone in a town for too long or helping him and stabilising him on terrain that isn’t even remotely dangerous to pass. His hands linger, as do his eyes when Connor bathes in a river or runs through a meadow full of flowers.</p>
<p>Hank never addresses the way his own name slips more and more often out of soft lips on rare nights when he catches Connor sleeping. He ignores the longing eyes watching him day and night. He tells himself that it’s not right, that Connor is his travel companion that will leave as soon as he finds his homeland and Hank will have to continue his travels because there is no place in this world that wants to host the <em>Son of the Fey</em> for too long.</p>
<p>He ignores the ache in his chest until he can’t anymore.</p>
<p>Connor often talks about the lake not far from his village, with its water clear as day and warm like a bath. As they cross the great mountains, Hank leads them off the trail (not that Connor would ever notice). It’s one day wasted for nothing as there are many small creeks they could use and they didn’t need to walk there, but the wide smile on Connor’s face when he sees a lake of crystal-clear water is worth it.</p>
<p>The young man doesn’t waste time, dropping his satchel and pants as he runs to the water, jumping straight in and laughing. He flops into the water and splashes it around, ending up floating on his back and grinning at Hank from the middle of the lake.</p>
<p>The hunter takes his time putting their things away to a safe distance far from the water, folding his clothes (that he washed just yesterday, so he isn’t about to let it lie in the dust and have to wash it again), and walking into the water slowly, getting used to its chill.</p>
<p>Peaceful atmosphere didn’t even fully settle in yet, and his bath suddenly turned into a war when Connor splashed him. Hank sputtered and splashed back, and when he missed, he lunged at Connor, trying to pull him underwater.</p>
<p>They spent better half of the day by the lake, fighting in the water or lazing in the sun. They ate dried meat for lunch and walked slowly to their campsite from the previous night when the sun began to set. It wasn’t really far, maybe half an hour now that Hank refreshed his knowledge of the terrain and knew where to go.</p>
<p>The smile never left Connor’s face. He kept saying thanks and unfinished gasps of <em>Hank, I</em>—…</p>
<p>The second the sun disappeared bellow the horizon, Hank’s hands were on him, pulling him close and with his lips silencing another story about Connor’s brother Niles and him swimming in their lake. The young man’s lips are soft and pliant, mouth open and inviting, while Hank is rough and demanding, the quality of his that got him through the hardest of times in the past now taking the younger man’s breath away.</p>
<p>“Hank!” Connor gasped when they parted, panting and blushing, something still so unusual on his always pale face.</p>
<p>The hunter paused, almost about to apologise for his actions, but before he even gathered enough air for those words, Connor was in his lap, cradling his face in both hands and leaning for another kiss, stealing his breath away.</p>
<p>Under the darkening sky, illuminated by the flames of their fire, Hank didn’t even notice Connor’s skin beginning to glow a warm colour. His moles first, like little blue stars, then the rest, an orange sky. Hank was blind to it all, focused only on removing their clothes, feeling as much of Connor’s perfect body as possible.</p>
<p>As they laid naked on their blankets, pressing close, their hands dared further down by the second, until Hank grumbled <em>fuck it</em> and reached for a small ceramic bottle in his satchel, a sweet scented oil he bought in one of the rare towns that he wasn’t forbidden to enter. Always ready, right?</p>
<p>Connor moaned sweetly when Hank’s thick finger pressed into him, eyes half-closed, searching the hunter’s face for something. Hank wanted to give it to him, give him everything, if only he knew what the young man wants.</p>
<p>“Hank, I— <em>Ah!</em>” Connor gasped, eyes snapping wide open and then falling closed when Hank’s finger skilfully found a hidden spot inside him that made him see stars.</p>
<p>He could do this all day, listening to Connor’s sweet and surprised sounds, almost like he didn’t expect it to feel good because this was the first time someone touched him like that. Just the thought that he might be the first almost drove Hank crazy, and he didn’t even feel the need to ask. Whatever. What’s important is that Connor is here now, moaning and writhing under him, asking for something and not knowing what.</p>
<p>Every pleasured sound was a test on Hank’s patience. He didn’t want to hurt Connor, adding another finger only when he was sure he can take it without pain. As soon as he was comfortably moving three fingers in and out, however, his patience disappeared.</p>
<p>The hunter might have felt bad later for the way he manhandled Connor on his stomach, if the young man didn’t urge him on by moaning and <em>begging </em>for Hank to fuck him. Who is he to deny?</p>
<p>The first slide inside was unlike anything he ever felt, and Hank had his fair share of partners in his life. Connor was warm and soft, and when he pressed close to litter kisses all over the pale back, he noticed how good he smelled. He was perfect!</p>
<p>Hank’s grunts and groans mixed with Connor’s as he slowly bottomed out. He waited for a little, but it was hard to be like that when Connor begged him to move at last. He pulled out a few inches tentatively and snapped his hips forward.</p>
<p>He didn’t expect Connor to cry out and shudder as he spilled all over their blankets under him, rutting slightly against one of the furs. Hank chuckled and pressed more kisses to the smooth, pale skin, everywhere he could reach.</p>
<p>When he started moving again, setting up a slow, easy rhythm, Connor whimpered a slight protest, but his hips moved to meet Hank’s as if he wasn’t tired at all.</p>
<p>Soon, the sound of skin meeting skin filled the air as Hank’s pace grew faster, stronger, urgent. His hands settled on Connor’s thin hips, holding him in place since his movements grew too frantic to keep up with Hank’s pace. At some point he was pulled up to his hands and knees, and even later, his arms gave out under him and he faceplanted into the furs.</p>
<p>The sensations that Hank was making him feel were completely new to him. Everything was too much and not enough at the same time. He wanted to come again, he was so hard, but he wasn’t sure he will be able to so soon after the first orgasm. His face met a soft fur of a fluffy animal, and he nuzzled it, desperately clinging to the grounding sensation, the gentle contrast to the hunter’s vicious thrusts.</p>
<p>“Hold on a little longer for me, Con,” Hank rasped in his ear, his hot breath dancing on Connor’s skin before he licked his earlobe, making another array of new sensations explode in him. Blindly, the young man reached for one of Hank’s hands, clutching to it for dear life. The hunter only chuckled and let him have it, sneaking his other hand around his hips to wrap his fingers around Connor’s aching cock.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, <em>please!</em>” he almost screamed, falling apart fast. It only took Hank three strokes to make Connor come again, and he milked every last drop out of him until it almost hurt.</p>
<p>Hank’s thrusts finally turned short and deep, and he pressed flush to Connor’s ass, spilling deep inside him with a loud groan. He collapsed onto the younger man, pressing him into the mess he made of their blankets. None of them seemed to mind it as they laid there, breathing hard and exchanging lazy, clumsy kisses until Hank pulled out of Connor and turned him around to kiss him properly.</p>
<p>“We should get cleaned,” Hank noted when their breathing calmed. A grin never left his face, but he didn’t mind that he probably looks like an idiot, too focused on the fucked-out happy glow of Connor.</p>
<p>
  <em>Glow.</em>
</p>
<p>Hank blinked, thinking that maybe the oil wasn’t as safe as he was told, and the sweet scent messed with his head. But no, that would be too normal, and Connor is <em>anything</em> but that. Connor, who is now literally glowing, his skin emitting light orange light like the descending sun.</p>
<p>“You’re unbelievable,” he scoffs, kissing a frown out of Connor’s forehead.</p>
<p>“You aren’t freaked out,” Connor notes, hesitantly reaching up to cradle Hank’s cheek. The hunter turns and kisses his palm in lieu of an answer. Connor smiles. “My kind glows when they are happy,” he explains. “Niles always told me I shine the brightest of them all when I get a beetroot soup for dinner and a late-night swim in the lake,” he sighs, closing his eyes and relishing in the memory for a second. “It’s not like fey need a lot of sleep…” he looks up at Hank again.</p>
<p>The hunter could feel Connor’s gaze piercing him, watching his reaction carefully. He made sure to not let any of his dark thoughts show. “Called it,” he jokes, chuckling when Connor frowns at him. “It’s not like it’s a surprise, you stupid fairy.”</p>
<p>Connor remained sombre for a while longer and then he smiled. “I guess you knew all along, right?”</p>
<p>“You’re a bad liar,” Hank confirms. “Now,” he begins to stand up, “I might not have a beetroot soup, but I know of a beautiful lake. Really, we both need a bath <em>bad</em>. Come on.”</p>
<p>It is amazing to watch Connor dive into the lake, his skin glowing even underwater. Hank contemplates the existence of mermaids or will-o’-the-wisps as he watches the orange and blue glow move under the surface, swimming elegantly to the other end of the lake. Connor giggles when he comes up for air and he swims back to Hank to pull him into the water too.</p>
<p>It’s not long before exhaustion gets to them both, and they must return to the campsite. The torch they took on the way almost burned out by the time. Connor’s light is stronger than the glow of the charred wood when his fingers gently lace with Hank’s. The hunter clutches the small hand tightly, making sure Connor doesn’t slip on the rocky ground. If he did and hurt himself, Hank would find gold covering his wound when they returned to the campsite.</p>
<p>They continue their journey in the morning, only occasional goofy smiles, and annoyed eye-rolls that were obviously feigned, giving away that something happened the previous night. (And the funny way Connor walks, to Hank’s endless amusement.)</p>
<p>In the oncoming days, the weather becomes cold and windy. Winter nears, and Hank finally gets Connor to wear a shirt full-time, not only for their stops in towns and villages. Soon, he has to add a coat, as the fey isn’t used to cold weather. It’s now obvious that he doesn’t come from the north and crossing the mountain range was good for nothing. This is not what Connor meant by <em>the winters are hard in my homeland</em>, not by far.</p>
<p>Too late for them to travel south, and they aren’t far from their destination anyway, and so they push forward to reach the lone hut before the first snow falls. Hank used to stay there with Sumo back when they travelled and hunted together, and there should be enough wood and some supplies if it is still in the condition he left it in.</p>
<p>But things never go smoothly in Hank’s life. He knew why he ran from this area, finding shelter in the kingdom of the dwarves for a while, and it was a little foolhardy to come back here. For the first time ever, he believes life can be better for him, that he can <em>belong</em>. He has someone to trust, someone who trusts him with his life. His heart melts every time he sees Connor gaze at him dreamily. He is <em>happy</em>. He has someone to hug at night and protect during the day.</p>
<p>Escaping danger is something Hank is really good at. When fight breaks out, he can find a good escape route quickly, and if there is no other way, he knows how to defend himself.</p>
<p>He had a bad feeling since they left the last village in the morning. It was like a shadow looming above them, and it was not the dark grey cloud over their heads. In the safety of the forest once again, Hank grew a little calmer. Both him and Connor are great hunters, and they won’t be surprised by anything.</p>
<p>But then Connor starts singing. It’s magical, even more than the glow of his skin that grows stronger in Hank’s presence. He dances through the forest, spinning and laughing every time he sees his lover’s face, and Hank just <em>can’t</em> tell him to stop when he is so happy.</p>
<p>The first arrow whistles past him, missing Hank’s shoulder and hitting a tree. Connor gasps and stops, looking around for danger.</p>
<p>Danger is everywhere. They are surrounded. At least ten men stand in a circle around them, one by one leaving their hiding spots. Hank recognises most of their faces.</p>
<p>“Got yourself a nice little whore, huh?” one of them mocks.</p>
<p>“You owe us money,” another goes straight to the point.</p>
<p>“Go fuck yourself,” Hank spits at both of them.</p>
<p>A fight breaks out. Hank knows Connor is a shitty fighter, but he is fast, and he can take down a predator. He isn’t used to the fighting style of humans, but surely, he knows when to just run.</p>
<p>The hunter manages to hit one man with an arrow before the others get too close. They don’t seem too focussed on Connor, and that’s good.</p>
<p>But then the fey screams and stabs one of the men with his wooden spike, driving it through the side of his neck. He collapses to the forest floor, bleeding out quickly as the wood dislodges. Before anyone can blink, Connor pulls out a silver dagger, a gift from a friendly dwarf they met on their journey, and stabs another man in the back, the dagger hitting him right in the heart.</p>
<p>The situation is a chaos after that. Fighting two opponents is not new to Hank, and he manages to hurt them both enough to shake them off. Much more men go after Connor, and he tries to fight his way through them. Fear stronger than any he’s ever felt settles in his body, chilling him down to his bones. There is a dark cloud above them and the sky thunders when Connor’s scream pierces the air.</p>
<p>Neither one of them noticed that one of the men had a sword. It was a masterwork, sharp enough to cut his right arm off completely. With another thunder, Connor screams once more as his stomach is sliced open with his own silver dagger. A thunderbolt hits a nearby tree, killing three of the men, and the rest runs away, but Hank doesn’t see that.</p>
<p>His eyes are on his lover, now laying on the forest floor, his crimson blood mixing with the spruce needles. His face is contorted in a grimace of shock and pain, and <em>fear</em>. He watches, transfixed, blood seeping out of his own stomach, sliced open like a gutted fish. But then he looks up at Hank.</p>
<p>The hunter stops dead in his tracks, a few feet before he could reach the fey. Connor’s eyes smile at him even though his mouth remains twisted in a painful grimace. His skin begins to glow when he sees his lover, more and more until he is bright like the settling sun.</p>
<p>And just like that, his blood turns to gold.</p>
<hr/><hr/>
<p>Hank doesn’t want to notice, doesn’t want to see. But even when he closes his eyes, he knows. A sweet, alluring scent fills the air, the same one like the one on Connor’s skin, but much stronger. It’s calling to him, but not like a nice song. It is an order. It is dark magic if he is to guess, but there is no time for that, because when Hank opens his eyes, he finds out that he is kneeling by Connor’s side. His shirt is torn open and Hank’s lips are latched on his skin, sucking the blood off it. His fingers are skimming on the edge of the wound, teasing it before dipping in.</p>
<p>He wants <em>more</em>. The golden blood tastes like a potion. A dark whisper in his head promises him eternal life, youth and beauty, wealth greater than the one of any king, and <em>power</em>. He lets his fingers dig deeper, stroking the silky, hot insides of Connor’s stomach. He ignores an agonized scream somewhere in the distance as he pulls his fingers out, licking them clean, sucking on them.</p>
<p>But he <em>needs more!</em> It is not enough; the wound is too small. The blood is flowing in all directions, creating a golden pond in the middle of the forest, but Hank knows that if he wants his immortality and endless power, he needs to make the wound even bigger. Slice Connor’s ribcage open. Play a song on his ribs and kiss his heart.</p>
<p>He looks up at his lover, intending to ask for his dagger. It’s silver and it won’t hurt him, unlike the iron sword that left a sizzling, charring wound surrounded by white and blue.</p>
<p>But he stops.</p>
<p>Connor is smiling at him weakly, tears streaming down his face. It takes him multiple attempts to speak, he coughs and sputters, and all the while, Hank is stuck here, rooted to the spot by two forces – one tugging him forward and the other telling him to stop.</p>
<p>“It’s alright, Hank,” Connor says, his voice weak and raspy. “I knew you always wanted this… It’s alright… I, I’m happy to die with you.” He keeps smiling, reaching with his remaining hand to touch Hank’s face. He smears golden blood all over his cheek. Then, his hand falls.</p>
<hr/><hr/>
<p>“No!” Hank wakes up from his trance. He grasps at the hand, finding it cold, but there is still light in Connor’s eyes, his skin glowing warm orange.</p>
<p>“No, no, don’t let go, Con,” he whispers. He no longer feels the need for blood, only cold, heart-shattering pain and fear. “I can fix this, I swear! I’m sorry!” He presses the hand to his cheek again, feeling his own tears.</p>
<p>Connor takes another pained breath, coughing out more blood. “Hank, I—” He stops, as always.</p>
<p>“I love you,” Hank blurts out. “I love you, Connor, you can’t leave me. I love you.” His voice breaks, then, but he keeps pressing kisses to his cold palm, hoping to convey the message.</p>
<p>“Hank, I—” Connor speaks up again, his voice but a whisper in the raising wind. The hunter looks up just in time to see his lips form the words. “I love you too.”</p>
<p>Connor’s eyes fall closed.</p>
<p>“No… No, no, no, no, <em>no!</em> Connor!” Hank cries, raising to his feet. A few stray snowflakes manage to slip past the crowns of the high trees and fall onto the palely glowing body on the ground. One of them lands in the middle of the injury, a gaping hole in the stomach of Hank’s lover.</p>
<p>He lets out an agonized sound when he sees the gold stop flowing. It can’t be over, not yet.<em> He needs to get Connor home!</em></p>
<p>The blood flow has ceased, but Connor’s chest continues to flutter, raising weakly every now and then. More snow falls onto his body. Hank falls to his knees again, cradling the body of his lover in his arms.</p>
<p>“Please,” he whispers. “Please, please… <em>Connor</em>…”</p>
<p>He hears a gasp. And another cough.</p>
<p>Hank’s head snaps up so fast his neck hurts. Connor’s eyes are still closed, golden blood drying at his lips, but… He looks down. The wound is almost gone, and Connor’s light is back, shining like the sun in the middle of the day.</p>
<p>“Connor?” he breaths out the name so carefully, you would think he is imploring a god. There is no answer.</p>
<p>“I can fix this,” he says again and stands up, carrying Connor in his arms. His back protests, so do his knees. He takes a wobbly step forward, and he doesn’t stop.</p>
<p>Two hours later, Hank falls to his knees again, Connor tumbling from his arms. Exhaustion and relief sent him to the ground when he finally saw the safe house.</p>
<p>He drags Connor in the snow, carries him again after unlocking the door. The wound on his stomach is gone, but he is cold, and paler than ever, his light white and hurting Hank’s eyes. He lays Connor on an old fur in front of the fireplace and starts a fire a minute later, the wood ready and perfect. It’s not the wood Hank collected before he left, and the thought that his friend probably stopped by in their safe house in the meantime, still trusting it, still alive – it makes him feel good.</p>
<p>As the house slowly warms up, Hank begins tending to Connor’s other wound. There is no blood, but the stump is covered by charred skin and tissue. A violent white rash has spread all over a pale shoulder, the poison of iron taking even more of Connor’s strength.</p>
<p>Connor doesn’t wake up.</p>
<p>Every night and each day except for one, Hank spends kneeling by his side. He doesn’t sleep, doesn’t eat. He lets drops of warm water fall into his lover’s mouth, making sure he doesn’t die of thirst during his rest. He puts snow wrapped in a linen towel on his forehead to ease his raging fever.</p>
<p>“Please,” he whispers every now and then.</p>
<p>“I love you,” even more often.</p>
<p>On the dawn of the fourth day, Connor’s eyelids begin to flutter. It is like a magical promise.</p>
<p>Few hours later, Connor opens his eyes, his unfocused gaze seeking Hank. He keeps blinking absently, not fully awake, but it is all Hank needs to start crying again. He kisses his forehead over and over, repeating his promises and confessions, telling the fey that he loves him, and he will never hurt him again. That everything will be alright.</p>
<p>Connor’s strength returns to him slowly, but they have plenty of time. The winter rages outside of the cottage’s walls, promising death to anyone who dares to travel now.</p>
<p>Hank only ever leaves to get more wood or try to hunt down something fresher than the dried or salted meat they have. He had to go back for the supplies he dropped when he carried Connor, and that were the scariest three hours of his life.</p>
<p>Come to think about it, he fears and worries a lot more now that he has someone other than himself to worry about.</p>
<p>He wouldn’t exchange it for anything.</p>
<p>The stump heals into something ugly, covered in blue scars, Connor’s arm completely gone and shoulder empty. It throws his balance off and makes him fall on his first few attempts at walking. Hank is happy to stabilise him to help him find his balance again, but it takes them many deep talks for Connor to accept his situation. Hank kisses every inch of his shoulder carefully at night, telling him that he loves him, all of him, and doesn’t mind his injury, that he is still “whole”, and he is Hank’s for as long as he wants to be.</p>
<p>The snow finally begins to melt, and Hank starts bringing in more prey for their dinner table when Connor feels strong enough to venture out shortly. He stumbles in the snow, but Hank knows better than to try and steady him now. Connor needs to gain confidence in himself again, and so he lets him fall and get up multiple times as he walks around the hut in circles.</p>
<p>After a nap that afternoon, Connor is full of energy, and it becomes the first night Hank takes him after the injury. He is gentle with him, prepping him slowly and reminding him that he is beautiful so many times that Connor has no other choice than to believe it.</p>
<p>And one day, the birds begin to sing a different melody, and both men know the winter is over. Their strength has been replenished and it is time to move on, heading south this time, in search of Connor’s homeland. Encouraged by their dreadful experience, they feel unstoppable, together.</p>
<p>
  <strong>The End</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To all three of my fandoms… Yes, I posted the same work three times with little changes. Bite me. This is me being generous, not greedy. I had to re-read this work so many times, I think I’m allowed to do this with how much work I put into the stunt. :D</p>
<p>Thank you for reading! ^.^ You can find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/ElfWriting">Twitter</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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